


peaches

by hudgens77



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Peaches - Freeform, Suggestive, peach - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:26:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hudgens77/pseuds/hudgens77
Summary: It's never mentioned in the Bible that the forbidden fruit was an apple.





	1. Chapter 1

"...in fact, it's never mentioned in the Bible that the forbidden fruit was an apple," Elio's dad says, concluding the usual discussion at the table after lunch. "Not even once."

  
"Interesting," Elio taunts, catching Oliver's eyes for a second before looking away.

  
Oliver raises an eyebrow.

  
"Interesting indeed," Elio's mother agrees, foreign to their little scheme. She looks at Oliver, who is unexpectedly quiet. "What do you think then was the forbidden fruit, movie star?" she says tenderly, accent thick.

  
"I think," Oliver licks his lips playfully, staring at Elio way too intensely for it to be casual. "Peaches," he says, smirking. "Definitely peaches."

  
Elio's nose starts bleeding.


	2. the unbitten peach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the monologue of Elio's dad, there's a little story to tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know: Andrea is a male name in Italy.

The feeling had always been there. It was nothing new, nothing you hadn’t discovered on your own. It was just one ordinary day during P.E. class, when you found yourself paying way too much attention to your classmates’ thighs as you were jogging, and when you realized this, you just thought: _oh_.

You accepted it naturally. The faster and more discreet the better—it meant less unnecessary suffering. You didn’t tell anyone, what for? It was just another part of yourself, one that you decided to keep for you and yourself alone.

* * *

 

School ends, sky turns yellow, noise grows. The classroom smells like sweat, like hormones. You’re anxious to get home and throw yourself at the bed for a while before _I don’t know_ , go out swimming, take some fresh air, go get an ice-cream. Simple pleasures, simple like _gazing_. You deserve them after your excellent grades.

Your friends talk, they suggest eating at one of their houses. It’s then when you realize you forgot one of your books. You tell them to go ahead, you’ll meet them later.

When you open the classroom’s door, it’s not empty as you thought it would be. There’s a guy; one of wavy, auburn hair, sitting alone and looking down at the bottom of the room. You recognize him immediately. Andrea, the popular guy, the class clown, the jock whose thighs are thick, muscular and tanned. The one with the long… _humid_? Lashes.

He’s crying.

You approach him, despite never actually having talked to him. You ask him what’s wrong.

“I failed the course,” he says between sobs. You sit beside him and then he tells you that his parent’s will surely kill him, surely send him to another school… third one this year. Maybe far, maybe to a boarding school —he begins to get upset, and despite this one being their very first actual conversation, he’s so shaken that you don’t even hesitate to hug him.

He doesn’t pull back. His head magically finds its place on your shoulder. You pat his back and let him cry until he’s calm.

You never meet your friends.

* * *

You walk him home in silence. The atmosphere is heavy, filled with tension. You offer him your company when telling his parents, but you know he’ll say no because it’s something he must do on his own.

So it happens.

You stare at him until he enters his home, then you leave.

* * *

The next day slips like water through your fingers. You wake up at noon, take a shower, and suddenly it’s lunch time. It’s really hot outside. You take a nap, wake up in the middle of the evening craving for a sweet snack and go to the kitchen downstairs. There are peaches.

You take the peach in your hands, but just when you’re about to eat it, your mother calls your name. There’s a friend that came to see you, she says. It’s Andrea. He smiles, somewhat shy. It’s new for you seeing him blush, same way it was seeing him cry the day before. Your stomach it’s all knotted. You go outside together to take a walk.

Andrea just wants to thank you for yesterday. You tell him there’s nothing to worry about, then ask him how everything went. His sigh anticipates no good.

“Mom and dad are sending me to a boarding school in Spain.”

You don’t understand at the moment why those news make you feel so devastated.

“Oh. I’m so sorry,” a pause; “when are you leaving?”

“In three days.”

* * *

Andrea has relatives in Spain. His parents want to spend some time in Andalusia and then go north until they reach Madrid, before leaving him to his own luck when school starts in September.

He invites you to have lunch in his house the next day. You don’t even hesitate before you say yes.

* * *

Your stomach is so full of butterflies that you can barely enjoy the food. After having some rest, Andrea invites you to swim in his pool. You put the swim suits on and you allow yourself to stare discreetly when he puts on his. You let him go inside first. It’s stunning to see how his brown body get into the water; howit gleams in some places when he emerges, how the wavy hair becomes straight and sticks to his face. He shakes, invites you inside. You both swim, play, splash water at each other. Andrea fills his cheeks with the liquid and spits it on your face. You can’t stop thinking about it the whole afternoon, at least until it’s time to go out and you almost slip so Andrea extends his hand out to you in order to help you. He doesn’t let go of it immediately, even when you’re both outside —he lets go until he hears the door open. It’s his mother, inviting you in to have dinner.

* * *

You dream about him. You dream about kissing his lips.

You wake up with your eyes wet.

* * *

Andrea comes by your house the next evening. It’s windy and you climb a nearby hill. You sit between the thickets, under the sun’s heat. Andrea puts his head on your shoulder.

“I’ll miss you,” he says. You look at him, he’s staring right at you. His green eyes are intense beneath his thick eyebrows. Andrea leans forward, and you…

You turn your head nervously before doing something stupid. Andrea’s lips smash against your cheek.

You know that if you let him start it, there would be no end to it. Plus he leaves tomorrow, and one day… just one day’s too little time to stop fearing.

Despite everything, he invites you to stay the night. He gives you his jacket when it gets dark and you feel a little chilly. You let him take your hand.

You eat dinner. Laugh together. You help him pack the last of his stuff, and don’t judge him when he starts crying.

It’s the last moment you spend together, the two of you alone.

* * *

The next day, you help his family put the suitcases in the car. Andrea’s friends arrive to say goodbye. You turn pale before them and realize that he has never been yours, never will be. However, Andrea hugs you. The embrace is a bit longer compared to the ones he gives the others, but not long enough to satiate your heart.

You watch him go with a knot in your throat, as he waves his hand laughing and crying fearlessly. His friends run behind him, but you can’t move; you're paralyzed until he disappears.

* * *

On your way home, you break out in tears. You didn’t even dare to ask him for his jacket to remember him by.

You never see him again, never know anything else more about him. He disappears from your life so briefly and intensely as he arrived.

* * *

Summer is listless, it's gloomy when he’s not there any longer. Your friends invite you to travel to Rome, and you say yes not to stay alone. You wouldn’t be able to deal with it alone. But Rome turns out to be a mistake —so gorgeous with its architecture, with its breathtaking monuments and statues; the arms so detailed you can make out the veins in them; the straight noses, the wavy manes… the thick, muscular thighs.

Andrea is everywhere.

* * *

But time goes by anyway. It’s your last year and it goes by dully and uninspired. You move out of your town to begin college, and it’s there where you meet a woman with auburn, wavy hair, and green eyes so beautiful they’re breathtaking. You learn to love her. You grow to love her so much you think Andrea is in the past, Andrea did his life and you did yours; you had a beautiful boy with wavy hair and green eyes and you called him Elio; and everything’s okay, until the summer when some guy named Oliver arrives and you remember everything as you witness your son repeat all the steps. But he’s a little smarter, a little braver, and they have more time that you and Andrea ever had. And thus, when Oliver leaves, Elio’s heart it’s even more shattered than yours was, and now it’s your duty to dust off some old stories to let him know he is not alone.


	3. the bitten peach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elio liked to test Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on a Chinese story.

Elio liked to test Oliver.

There’s a Chinese story, _Fen Tao_ , that says that during the Warring States period (475 B.C.-221 A.C.) Duke Ling, governor of the Wei state, loved one of his courtiers, Mizi Xia.

One day as they were taking a walk in the garden, Mizi Xia saw a peach hanging from a tree’s branch; he took it and bit it. When he noticed it was particularly sweet, he offered it to the Duke. The other courtiers were baffled, since it was an insult to offer the governor food leftovers; however, Duke Ling smiled and told them: “Look how much Mizi Xia loves me! He tastes the peach first, and then he gives it to me after knowing it’s delicious.”

That same evening, during the after-dinner conversation, Elio headed to the kitchen, took a ripe peach and he went back to the table. He bit the peach, juicy and sweet. Smiling mischievously, he offered Oliver the peach in front of the stunned looks of his parents and Mafalda, who was walking by to retrieve the plates. His mother was already beginning to scold him for it was impolite to offer something bitten to their guest, until then Oliver smiled and took the peach.

Before he bit it, he exclaimed:

“Ah, nevermind, Mrs. P. Elio actually cherishes me so much, for you’ll see, he tasted the peach first and now he gives it to me after knowing it is good.”

Nobody dared to reply. Elio let out a nervous giggle, and Oliver finished eating the fruit and licked his fingers.


End file.
